


Lost Keys and Burnt Experiments

by BarqueBatch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Damn I need to lose my keys in Bart's Lab someday..., First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Johnlock Fluff, Johnlock Roulette, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:38:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarqueBatch/pseuds/BarqueBatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's supposed to be meeting up with Greg to watch a match... but nothing ever goes according to plan when he's around Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Keys and Burnt Experiments

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mistletoe Doodles](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/33223) by Anotherwellkeptsecret. 



> http://anotherwellkeptsecret.tumblr.com/post/70653285452/mistletoe-doodles-merry-christmas

Sherlock's eyes flick upward as John pats down his pockets with a deep, confused frown then begins to turn circles about the lab.

"Sherlock... do you uh... my keys... Do you see them? They're not in my jacket..."

"No."

John sighs and looks about, his brows drawing closer together. "C'mon, Sherlock. I told Greg and the guys I'd be there at eight. Can you just help me find them?"

He says nothing as John continues to look beneath papers and under chairs, his frustration becoming more palpable with each lap he takes. Blue-silver eyes shift sideways and Sherlock catches sight of John's keychain peeking out from below his notes binder. No mistaking the cheap metal ring with the medical insignia on the clasp. Well-intentioned gift from Harry. John's just sentimental and polite enough to still use it. He could simply point the keys out. Of course he could. What possesses him to actually slide from his stool, leave his experiment, palm the keys and walk up behind John isn't really clear to him.

The jingle of keys behind John's back bring a relieved grin to his lips. He turns to find Sherlock dangling them at eye level, except it's not exactly eye level for John. The shorter man can't completely stifle his short laugh.

"You can't just hand them to me? Gotta dangle them over my head like a brat?"

Even though Sherlock's eyes narrow at that, he smiles. It's a smile of pure mischief. When John reaches for them, Sherlock yanks them just out of reach. "I didn't have to bring them to you at all," he replies mildly.

"You did get up rather than pointing them out," John concedes with a warm giggle. "Ta."

Sherlock lowers the keys as the warmth in John's voice pools in his gut. His fingers feel tingly as John reaches upward again but then freezes. His milky blue eyes raise slowly and focus above Sherlock's head.

"The hell...?"

Sherlock's gaze follows his flatmate's. There, hanging from a string is a sprig of mistletoe. "Molly," he groans, wrinkling his nose and rolling his eyes. "Ever the optimist."

John stares at the intrusive, symbolic fauna. Slowly he lowers his eyes to Sherlock. The quicksilver eyes go from glaring in annoyance to sudden, self-conscious discomfort. They slip downward to find John's eyes already fixed upon his face. John feels the smile slip into place on his own lips as he gazes at the crazy git standing there with him. His best friend. His beautiful, mad detective.

His. Strange how pleasant that possessive thought settles over him; how it doesn't set off the panic he might have expected. Strange how easy this feels after all the uneasy tension that's been brewing between them. All he really understands in that moment is that he can't imagine his life without Sherlock, and how much he wants him to know it. Awkward surprise flashes over Sherlock's face as John smiles up at him. John takes the initiative and leans forward just a fraction. Just enough to show unmistakeable intent to the man who misses nothing where intent is concerned.

"Guess you should be thankful she didn't misplace her keys then."

Sherlock's eyes widen at the body language and deliberate intimation, but then he's smiling, leaning forward, angling his head down. He stops just shy of John, his breath slow, hot puffs against John's lips. "You're going to be late for your manly football shoutfest, aren't you?"

John's smile widens and he just shrugs, his eyes hooding as he studies Sherlock's full lips. "I suddenly just... don't... care..." He closes the distance between them and melts a little when Sherlock tugs him closer. No footie match could ever be worth missing out on this.

Steps away, Sherlock's experiment scorches to ruin over the lit flame, equally unworthy of their attention...

Unworthy at least until the fire alarm sprinkler system kicks on.


End file.
